


it's a warning, baby

by liesmith



Series: stray (fake chop) [16]
Category: The Creatures | Cow Chop RPF
Genre: Fake Chop, FakeChop, M/M, Secret Santa, keys and tattoos and graves oh my
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:34:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21556327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liesmith/pseuds/liesmith
Summary: there is a key and a lockoraleks lets james do whatever he wants
Relationships: Aleksandr Vitalyevich Marchant/James Richard Wilson
Series: stray (fake chop) [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/756327
Kudos: 18





	it's a warning, baby

Digging graves is hard. Like, the most bullshit work in the world.

Aleks stares down at the body nestled into his shitty desert grave he’s been trying to cover for about a half hour now. It’s getting colder and some of the clay isn’t shifting right and the dirt is gross and God _damn_ he could go on for days. He leans against his shovel, exhausted and trying to catch his breath. From the corner of his eyes he catches James, sprawled over the Camaro’s hood, doing much of fucking nothing except looking at shit on his phone and laughing. Asshole. James is the one who killed the dude; how is Aleks stuck cleaning up his messes?

Well. He knows why. But fuck saying it out loud.

“Asshole! You wanna come help?”

“Bro, is this really you?” James asks between a sudden giggle fit, sitting up on the hood and turning his phone screen towards Aleks. The blond squints behind his sunglasses (it’s night, take them off asshole) and pales, if possible, at the sight before him. Somehow, some fucking how, James has found his old band’s music video. The sight of prepubescent emo Aleksandr, paused mid-screech, makes present time still emo Aleksandr want to crawl into the grave with this stiff. Maybe then, and only then, James might actually help him bury this.

“No way,” Aleks is sweating, hands so wet as he tries to grip the shovel tighter and get this over with, energy renewed with anxiety and embarrassment, “you know there’s like, other Aleksandrs, right? Racist.”

“You’re white!” James laughs harder, phone illuminated by the video as he plays it, the riffs mocking Aleks as he gives up burying and just tries to push the dirt instead of pack it on neatly, “oh my _God_ , Aleks. Please tell me you didn’t write these lyrics. They’re dogshit, bro. Even the worst emo stuff doesn’t compare to this.”

“I told you, it isn’t me,” Aleks tries not to let the panic show; that’s just blood in the water for James, “come _on_ , please help me. We have to finish this before Brett kills us.”

“I’m showing this to everyone,” James finally gets off the hood, pocketing his phone and grabbing the forgotten shovel by the car, walking over to Aleks, “No _way_ are you living this down. Swear on my life.”

“You’ll be next to your buddy,” Aleks tries to threaten, but his voice cracks at the end. Shit. Blood in the water. James just cackles, helping Aleks shove the rest of the stirred up earth onto the body beneath them.

He doesn’t hear the end of it, or the song, the whole ride home, either. Aleks is so tempted to drive them off a cliffside but the thought of leaving Mishka alone is too much to bare. James can survive another day.

* * *

There is one saving grace. James hasn’t shown anyone, despite his threat, but he isn’t letting Aleks live it down. Any chance he gets, he’s reminding Aleks of it, asking about it, how long was he in the band, was he kicked out, does he even talk to these people anymore, he was eight how did he know what an alcoholic was.

Driving a knife between James’ ribs seems more appealing as the days progress.

Yet he lets it go. He always does. The charm James has on Aleks is unreal, and the blond has enough smarts to know it, but still. He’s such an idiot.

Three days later, they’re sitting in James’ car at an In-n-out. Aleks finished his burger already and is quietly working on his drink as James eats next to him, both eyes on the neon green Jeep in front of them. This dude owes them money, big time, and James is oh so eager to collect. Aleks is just the only love struck idiot to go with him on a possible suicide mission; but then again, everything they do is a possible suicide mission. Whole point of it, he guesses. Aleks sets his cup back down, crossing his arms behind his head as he lounges back in his seat.

“So what’s the plan?”

“You think your song could kill him? Just like, hearing it?”

Aleks grimaces. “How much longer am I gonna hear about this?”

“Oh, until I die,” James dabs oh so politely at his mouth with a napkin, turning to give Aleks a grin, “I dunno, man. We got guns and knives. How do you wanna do this?”

Aleks feels like stabbing, but it’s not the Jeep guy he wants to stab. “Lead the way, boss.”

James laughs. Aleks wonders if this life was always suited to him.

* * *

He’s digging another grave, cleaning up James’ messes again. Aleks is too fucking obedient. The dirt is softer tonight, at least. He crouches down after digging the hole, rummaging through the man’s pockets for anything. The wallet was taken by James, but that’s about it. Aleks roots in the hoodie pocket and pulls out a key, brows furrowed. It’s not a Jeep key; it looks like an antique almost, brassy and smelling like old pennies. He pockets it anyways because he doesn’t care, and certainly the dead man doesn’t.

Aleks stands back up and with a well placed rib kick, the body rolls into pit. James is sat back on the car’s hood, just like before, and Aleks hates the tingle of deja vu that rolls down his spine. He’s packing dirt down onto the body when the silence is pierced by his emo screeching and Aleks jumps, frightened of the sudden noise.

“T-Turn it off, Jesus!”

“This is like, perfect mood setting music. You think you can fuck to this?”

“James, it’s not funny anymore,” Aleks pushes the rest of the dirt onto the body, looking over his shoulder at his partner, “really. Shut up about it.”

James raises an eyebrow, pausing the music video. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

Aleks waits a beat for whatever James might say next, but instead, the man just shrugs and lays back against the hood of his Honda. “Alright.”

Huh. Aleks blinks. “... Okay. Thanks, man.”

The drive home is silent. Aleks sticks his hands in his jacket’s pockets, fingers brushing over the metal of the key. He wonders what it’s for, why the man had it, why James let that shit go so easily, and why Aleks _cares_ so much.

No, he knows the answer to that last one.

Aleks just refuses to say it out loud.

* * *

He carries the key everywhere. First it’s just because Aleks forget he had it in this jacket. Now, he’s just kind of holding onto it. After showing Lindsey, she confirms it’s a skeleton key. To what is a mystery, but skeleton keys are kind of cool. He sits outside a Starbucks, tossing it up and down in his hand as he waits for James to come out with his drink. Someone had to go pet a dog and get stuck 6 people behind Aleks, who gladly smirked at James as he sauntered out with his drink.

“What’s that?”

Aleks takes a sip of his iced coffee and looks at the key in his hands. “A skeleton key. I frisked it off neon Jeep man.”

“Where was I?”

“Being an asshole, if I recall,” Aleks looks at James over the rim of his sunglasses, brows furrowed, “you know, with Youtube and shit.”

“Right,” James says, as if remembering it fondly as he sits besides Aleks at the outdoor table, elbow resting on the grated table, “what do you think it opens?”

“I hope it locks your mouth shut."

“Aw. Be nice, baby.”

Aleks looks away, a small flush spreading over his cheeks. Jame knows exactly how to push his buttons. “I dunno. Why would he even have it? Maybe I took a dead guy’s sentimental item his Jewish grandfather passed down to him.”

“Feel bad about it?”

“Nah,” Aleks takes another sip of his coffee, eyes lid behind his sunglasses, “it’s pretty cool looking, though. I might get it tattooed on me.”

“We’ve got nothing to do.”

Aleks tilts his head back to look up at the green umbrella, leg crossed over the other as he taps one foot on the ground. They don’t.

“Get it with me.”

James makes a sighing sound. “Do I?”

“You can match with Lindsey but not me?”

“Alright. Come on, crybaby.”

* * *

Aleks sits with one leg out of his joggers, legs open as the artist wets the stencil onto his inner thigh. Directly across from him is James, arm outstretched as another artist does the same to his wrist. Their unbroken eye contact is way more intimate then this guy mere inches from his dick. They’re both fucked up idiots, doing stupid shit for attention from someone, each other, anything. Playing the longest game of chicken in the world but that’s how they’ve always been.

The needle bites his skin and Aleks looks away, hand clenched as he works through the pain. It’s not the worst spot he’s tattooed, it’s just all chubby flesh, but it’s still tender. Aleks just decides to occupy himself on his phone the best he can, not wanting to look back at James. The moment’s gone, anyways.

He’s so zoned out by the time the artist finishes that when the guy pats his knee, Aleks feels his heart leap into his throat. Shit. He’s such a baby. “Oh, uh, bro. Awesome. Thank you,” He goes through the motions, staring down at his thigh. It really does look great; the guy got every last little notch and detail down to a t. Aleks couldn’t have asked for a better looking tattoo. He gets wrapped up and carefully, with a wince, slides his leg back into his pants and wobbles over to James.

The artist is bent over James’ wrist, shading in his. Aleks gives a low whistle, nudging James’ shoulder. “Looks good.”

“Hope so,” James murmurs, turning his head to the side and up to look at Aleks, “let me see yours.”

“Later, I’m sore,” Aleks complains, leaning against the wall to get weight off his thigh for now, “it’s pretty great, though. I think it’s better than yours.”

“Pfft,” James looks back at the artist, “sure.”

* * *

Somewhere, there is a lock and Aleks holds the key that opens it.

Here and now, with James’ body warm and heavy on top of him, a familiar weight that pulls his heart into his throat with how right it feels, he has a key and James has a lock. They’re idiots, chasing each other down this rabbit hole, but Aleks wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> secret santa gift for hawkeyenaked/infnIte on tumblr. thank you for joining in the last year! i hope you enjoy


End file.
